Letter from Behind the Border
by Nemethys
Summary: Hermione's letter. DM/HG, AU.


**Story:** Letter from Behind the Border

**Author:** Nemethys

**Genre:** Drama/Angst

**Beta:** Spyed (thank you!)

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any other characters by J.. It all belongs to her.

**Letter from Behind the Border**

_2.2.2001_

Hey, You.

I wrote this letter, even though I know that no-one will ever read this. I do not know to whom I wrote this, I only know that this had to be done. I'll start from the easiest thing, my death.

I remember very well the day I died. It was a very sunny autumn day, one of many, in which case I would have normally gone out if I would not have been sick. My illness had limited so much from me, things that I couldn't enjoy any longer; the sun, rain, walking -- or _him_. It made me bitter sometimes, and I kept asking "Why me?"

I promised to myself to not think or talk about him, but I couldn't just ignore him. He was, after all, the love of my life and sometimes the only thing that kept me from going insane.

He loved me, I knew it. And I loved him more than words or deeds can ever tell. He was with me till the end of my life, and for that, I am grateful to him forever. When I was nearing the end, I whispered his name often, just to make sure if he was still there. And then his warm  
hand would clench mine, bringing me a sense of security. I would never be alone, he was always right beside me.

I remember in my last days he's painful face, when he looked at me. If I'd had enough strength, I would have told him that there would be no reason for concern. Death would sooner or later reach us all, and there was no reason to fear. But I couldn't do it, because even a slight movement produced pain for me. I had spared my last strength for those three words, which I hoped to become a source of comfort to him when I was gone.

I hadn't feared death before it finally was my time. I had been bedridden for months, so sore I didn't think it was even possible. All thoughts had disappeared from my brains, leaving only one beautiful  
sentence to be remembered.

_  
This is the day I die.  
_  
The idea was actually quite comforting; I would never again have to take part in deadly boring family dinners, or listen my friends lamenting about their girl/boyfriends. Nor do the dishes. It would perhaps be the greatest thing ever; I truly hated doing dishes. Fingers would look like raisins after that; mine always did.

But at the same time, however, I thought of those things that I would definitely miss; laughter, my friends, my work, life itself, and of course, him.

I have spoken for this entire letter of him, I know. But it is difficult to try and not to speak about him: for my life had began after meeting the true him. His kisses made my go weak in my knees, and my heart would begin to beat violently when I saw him. He listened to all of my sorrows and joys, tolerated me in my bad days, and loved me without conditions. How many people can say they have experienced the same?

Sometimes I wonder whether I was never enough for him. We never talked about the matter, I feared that he would disappear if I would told him. I confined these thoughts and doubts deep inside me, to the most inward parts of what would be my existence, and I never told him about them. Between us there were some secrets, but they didn't bother us. Not me, at least. Of him, I don't know.

He was in many ways mystic, sometimes disappearing for days without saying a word. At first, it annoyed me tremendously, but with time I would get used to it. I only asked him to report before he would leave, and it suited him. I knew that he would be faithful to me, even if some people doubted it. But others didn't know the kind of connection we had, the kind which just cannot be put into words. Why shouldn't I let him go, if it made him happy?

Of course, he stopped disappearing when we found out that I was terminally ill. He tried to buy the whole hospital and force them to cut into me, but I got every cure what was possible to get. They gave me four months to live, which I stretched to seven with my resilience. I knew that he was hoping that my diagnosis was incorrect, and my condition would improve, but I also knew that he was wrong.

I don't know which is worse; to die yourself, or to watch when someone else dies. Before I would have replied automatically "to watch", but when I was put into the position of dying, it got me thinking. Guilt was a daily presence. I seriously felt guilty of my own death, and of the pain it made people feel. It was horrible to see them pitying me, I hated it. He was the only one who even tried to hide it, but sometimes even I saw it in his eyes.

His pity didn't feel as bad as the others' did.

My thoughts are wandering, sorry. I promised to tell you about my death, not just about him.

I remember the cold that chilled me right down to the core. It began in the morning, though I died in the afternoon. It was treacherous, stabbing, and frightening.

At that moment, I was afraid. I didn't fear the pain or anything like that, just death itself. Where would I go? Was God real? I had never really believed in God, my magic had led to the collapse of the limited faith I had had. Would I just simply stop existing?

Pointless to say that I would "stop existing", because I am still here, but in a different time and place as you others. I am not in one place (like heaven), I am everywhere, and at the same time completely alone.

I know he will someday join me, but I hope it is not soon. He deserves to live, to continue all the things he has started. Maybe he will marry someone else, I do not know. I'm not quite fond of the idea. In my world, he belongs to only for me.

I remember when he cried; I had never seen it before. He held my paper-thin hand in his, he held it so gently that I almost didn't feel it. He didn't know that I'd hear him, otherwise he never would have cried in front of me. I don't know where he had imaged me to be, but I would be with him to the end, and even after death.

Today, it is funny to see him when he does not see me. He is visiting my grave often, and keeping it clean. I'm actually quite proud of him, considering he has never been a very meticulous man.  
My heart would have ached, if I could feel the pain. He arranges the fresh flowers so nicely that I'm sure he has ruler with him. If only he would not stress, I am at the place where cleanliness doesn't  
matter. I would like him to be relaxed by my grave, so I could see him as I remember him to be like; laughing and beautiful, as always.

Maybe next year.

It was strange to see that life goes on without me. It came to a standstill for some, a moment, I noticed it, but gradually, they continued on with their lives. Except he didn't. But he seems to need  
more time.

It had, however, been difficult to see him beside me. I do not mean that I would not have wanted it, but I know that I looked awful. I had not been able to eat for days, or sleep properly, and the bags under my eyes were probably huge. I was emaciated almost to zero, and in a sense it was a relief when all was over.

He would never forget my death, - certainly sounds egoistic to say this - but he wouldn't forget. His tears burned my hand, which he had pressed against his lips.

_Only a moment longer_, I thought then. _Soon, I don't exist any more_.

Then I knew that it was time to say goodbye, to what I had spared my last strength. Left unimportant things unsaid, but saved the most important. I opened my eyes, as extremely painful as it was, and I was so tired, but I wouldn't leave without saying it, no matter what. He noticed that I was awake, and looked at me with teary eyed, not bothering to hide them.

"I love you", I said in a voice, which was mostly puff, but I knew that he heard them. There. He knows that I will never stop loving him, even though I'm not beside him every day.

He burst into tears, and I couldn't blame him. He knew that it was over.

"Don't leave me," he whispered so sadly that I couldn't help but think about getting better and going back home with him, until I remembered that it was not really my decision.

"Never", I said to even my astonishment, and then I closed my eyes. I felt the cold growing, just like the storm. It ripped my soul out of my body, and I stopped breathing, just in case, perhaps it would speed the process up a little bit.

"I love you", I heard someone say, and then I saw it, the light, which was so beautiful and bright that I would have closed my eyes had they not already been closed.

And then I died. It was not at all painful, in fact, it was very peaceful. Just like I wanted it to be.

I will be all right. That is what we all wish from afterlife. And I can tell you that it is true. So here I am, ending my letter.

I hope that you will face death somewhat more calmly now that you know what it really is like.

- Hermione Malfoy


End file.
